


give in to temptation

by pleasurific



Series: temptation [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Babysitter Derek Hale, Blow Jobs, Dubious Consent, Dubious Morality, Extremely Underage, First Kiss, First Time Blow Jobs, Kissing, M/M, Mention of Paige's death, Oral Fixation, Past Derek Hale/Paige, Shota, Shota Stiles Stilinski, Size Difference, Spit As Lube, Stiles Stilinski is a Little Shit, Stiles is nine, Teasing, Underage Sex, Unintentional Teasing, Unsafe Sex, derek is fifteen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-08-10 23:21:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16464278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pleasurific/pseuds/pleasurific
Summary: Derek thought it was because of Stiles's similarity to Paige. Turned out, it was the other way around.





	give in to temptation

**Author's Note:**

> Read the tags before proceeding. This ain't everyone's cuppa.

At first, Derek thought it was only because of the similarities to Paige. Because of how much he wanted her back, how much it pained him to know she was gone. 

But when he thought about it more, he had to admit to himself that it was really the other way around, at the start. He liked her big, curious, brown eyes, the moles on her skin, her feistiness, the way she wasn't afraid to stand up to him. He liked the bow of her lips, her long fingers that danced over the strings of her cello. And he loved her, yes, as he got to know her better. But at first, the things that he was drawn to were ones he'd known from somewhere else... someone else. Someone he didn't dare to look at that way because it was wrong, oh so wrong. 

Had she survived, it wouldn't have been an issue ever again. Had he not stayed in town after she died, it wouldn't have been a problem either. But he did. And because his mother decided that he needed to get out of the house more -- away from Peter's bad influence, once she figured out who called Ennis to the school that night -- he ended up where he is now.

Babysitting. 

"I'm not a baby," Stiles says in a tone that Derek is sure is meant to be firm, but just feels petulant. "I don't need a babysitter!" 

The Sheriff -- John, Derek reminds himself -- sighs in a way that makes it obvious that this is not his first rodeo with Stiles's protests. Derek figures he's better off staying silent. His mind is already filled with thoughts, ones that he wants to shake off before John leaves. Ones that he's never going to share with anyone. 

"You're not even a teenager, Stiles," John says. "And I have no problem with you being home by yourself during the day, but we've discussed this. Melissa is working, Scott's away at his aunt's, and you're not staying home alone." 

"I'm old enough," Stiles repeats, still as stubbornly. 

"Derek is staying. I'll be home in the morning," John says with finality that carries a tone of the law enforcement officer in him as well as a father. 

Derek nods as John says a quick goodbye, completely ignoring Stiles's ongoing protests, and then they're alone. As the front door closes and the cruiser pulls away, Stiles huffs and throws himself on the couch in what can only be called a tantrum. 

"I don't need you," he tells Derek. "I'm old enough to be by myself."

"I'm sure you are," Derek says, his mind a little clearer than earlier. 

After all, what's on his mind right now is that this is the Sheriff's son. His underage, prepubescent son. With all the big brown eyes, the moles scattered all across his skin, his pouting lips and slender long fingers. Derek shakes his head as the thoughts return. 

"I'm nine now, that's almost two digits, I'm not a baby," Stiles continues muttering, likely not aware that Derek can hear him perfectly. 

It's not like they advertise that they're werewolves to anyone. 

Nine, Derek thinks, shuddering. 

That is why he tried so hard to push away the reasons why he even noticed Paige in the first place a year ago. Why he didn't allow himself to linger on who she reminded him of. Because a year ago Stiles was eight. Not that he's all that much out of bounds now, but he was even younger then. He was way too young for Derek to look at him and linger over his features, over the way Stiles nibbled on his fingers and the way he put things between his pink lips all the time. He's still too young.

And yet when Stiles grabs the string of his hoodie and absent-mindedly starts chewing it and slipping his tongue out as he flips through the channels on the TV, Derek can't look away.

"You gonna stand in the door all night?" Stiles asks in a mocking tone. "I'm sure the frame will hold, you don't need to support it."

Derek rolls his eyes with all the attitude of a teenager he can muster and he walks over and slumps on the couch next to Stiles. The rest of the evening goes like that -- Stiles does something subconsciously and Derek's mind fixates on it until Stiles makes a snappy remark. They move away from the living room to get something to eat when Stiles's stomach rumbles. it turns out not to be the best idea because Stiles insists on hot dogs. Derek almost chokes on air when he watches Stiles try to eat a whole one, his lips stretched around the bun and his eyes wide as he pushes it in. 

He shoves the thought away, ignores the twitch of his cock in his pants, and tells Stiles to stop playing with his food instead. It does no good and he has to watch as Stiles picks on the fries with his fingers which he then licks thoroughly and ends it all with sticking his tongue out at Derek in defiance. 

Derek wants to shut him up in ways that would most certainly get him in trouble. 

After dinner, Stiles stomps off into his room and comes back down in pajamas that are two sizes too small. The top is stretched tight around his chest even though he's thin and the bottoms end way above his ankles. He stretches out on the couch, leaving only a narrow space for Derek to sit on, then promptly lifts his bare feet into Derek's lap. About ten minutes into the movie that Stiles turns on, Derek realizes that he's not watching the screen at all. Instead, his eyes are stuck on the way Stiles's chest rises and falls slowly, more and more steadily as the time passes. Stiles's bottom lip is dark pink from Stiles chewing on it in an obvious attempt to keep himself awake enough to finish the movie. In defiance of whatever bedtime he was supposed to have -- Derek searches his memory for that information, but he comes out with nothing. 

"You should go to bed," he says, his voice rough as he tries to ignore the effect that the sight of Stiles has on him. 

"D'n wanna," Stiles mumbles, clearly already more tired than he'd want to admit. 

Derek sighs.

"Come here," he says, jerking his head.

Stiles seems to understand and he shuffles until his head is on Derek's thigh. 

If he turned around... 

Derek stops himself and instead rests a palm on Stiles's shoulder, squeezing it gently as he tries to turn his eyes back to the TV and focus them on the movie that's playing. it's barely ten minutes later that he can hear a little quiet snore and feels Stiles shift to his stomach, clearly asleep. Derek snorts and leans back into the cushions, finally letting himself relax a bit. Stiles is not a peaceful sleeper, he shifts and turns and eventually ends up on his stomach with his cheek pressed against Derek's thigh, his hands underneath it, and his hips up in the air. The pajama bottoms are stretched enough over his ass that Derek wonders how they haven't ripped yet. 

His mind unhelpfully provides an image of that -- Stiles in this position, the seam of his bottoms split open and baring his ass crack to whoever would be looking. Derek's cock twitches again, already half hard and making him a little dazed. 

Stiles is nine, Derek reminds himself. 

But it's maybe a little too late. His hand is now on Stiles's back, the heat seeping through the thin fabric into his palm, the steady rhythm of Stiles's breathing calming and exhilarating at the same time. Derek takes a deep breath and lets himself feel all of it for a while, lets himself imagine there not being a fabric barrier between his palm and Stiles's skin. But then Stiles twitches and hums in his sleep and brings Derek out of his reverie. 

"Right, come on," Derek says as he squirms from under Stiles's head and gets rewarded with an unhappy grumble. 

Stiles wakes just enough to slowly scramble to his feet up on the couch, then he wraps his arms and legs around Derek's body.

"Carry m'up?" 

The words are mumbled into the crook of Derek's neck, Stiles's breath warm but still making Derek shiver. He's hard and he's just hoping that Stiles isn't awake enough to feel that as he presses his body against Derek's chest. That Derek's jeans are tight enough to conceal it. He has no other option but to start walking towards the stairs. Stiles's grip loosens as they head up and Derek wraps his arms around him, one landing on Stiles's lower back, the other on his small ass to hold him up. 

It's a long way up to Stiles’s bedroom, when Derek feels the softness under his fingers and tries hard not to dig them in, not to move them too far down and brush them against anything they shouldn't be brushing against. But then he leans over Stiles's bed to set him down and Stiles shifts, making Derek's fingers slip and brush against his balls. Derek freezes and an apology is ready on his lips, but Stiles only hums with content. 

"D'nt go," he mutters, his grip on Derek's neck steady. "Cuddles."

He knows that he shouldn't. He needs to go, now, head downstairs and splash cold water in his face. He pulls his own hands away, then pries Stiles's arms away from his neck... then he slips out of his shoes and nudges Stiles to one side of the bed so he can lie down next to him. Stiles sighs happily and wriggles until his back is against Derek's chest, his ass right in Derek's crotch and against his cock, which is hard enough to be uncomfortable. 

"Stiles," Derek says in a warning tone as he feels the boy twitch again. 

Instead of staying still, Stiles squirms again, this time more deliberately pushing his ass against Derek's cock. 

"Stiles," Derek repeats and puts his hand on Stiles's hip to stop him. 

That doesn't help, because the top of Stiles's pajamas has rucked up a little and Derek's thumb lands on bare skin. He tenses and then, before he can stop himself, rubs it over the exposed skin, feeling Stiles shiver underneath his hand. When he makes himself focus, he realizes that Stiles's breathing is not as steady as it was earlier and that the boy is most definitely awake. Then, when Derek takes a breath that's supposed to be calming, he's hit with the scent of arousal that's most definitely not his own. 

Stiles's ass clenches and the movement isn't subtle enough to not have an effect on Derek. Quite the opposite, it's pressed against Derek's crotch just the right way and the small shift causes his own dick to twitch enough that he knows there's no way Stiles didn't feel it. 

"Stop," Derek says, his voice rough and his fingers tightening around Stiles's hip. "Stiles, stop it."

"Nuh-huh," Stiles replies.

But he does stop. Derek has a beat to take a breath, then Stiles is squirming away from him and turning around, his eyes wide open and his bottom lip between his teeth. 

"'S bigger," he tells Derek.

It takes an embarrassingly long time for Derek to figure out what he means. But then Stiles's eyes dart down between them.

"Can I see?" he asks, blushing when he looks up and meets Derek's eyes again. 

Derek closes his eyes, then opens them again, then glances down to realize that his hand is on Stiles's side and he doesn't remember when he put it there. 

"We shouldn't," he says. 

What he should do right now is get off the bed and walk away. But Stiles is right there, looking at Derek with an expression that's half curiosity and half pleading. There's no hesitation anywhere, not when he asks the same question again and definitely not when his small hands and long skinny fingers brush over Derek's abs that are tense and firm. 

"Stiles," Derek says as he breathes out, the tension seeping out with the word. "I can't."

"I'll do it," Stiles says with the same stubbornness and determination that he showed earlier when he protested Derek being here at all. "I can." 

Derek should say no. He should move his hand from Stiles's heated skin and to where Stiles's fingers are fumbling with the button of his jeans. He should look away from Stiles's eyelashes that are dark against his pink cheeks and from the space between them where Stiles is opening up the jeans and pulling down the zipper. 

He should have worn briefs today. 

But he didn't and when Stiles is done with the zipper, Derek's cock springs free and points out of the jeans, hard and with a drop of precome almost immediately appearing at the tip. Derek is frozen in place when Stiles looks up for a beat and then turns his head down again, one finger pointed as he gently brushes it over the tip of Derek's cock, the drop catching on the pad of his finger. 

"Mine doesn't do that," he whispers almost reverently. "Only a little bit." 

"It happens when you're older," Derek says, barely recognizing his voice. 

"How's it taste?" Stiles asks, bringing his hand up to his face, the pad of his finger damp as he looks at it.

"Don't know," Derek admits. 

He's never been one of the boys who wanted to taste, never had that curiosity. He could smell it better, the scent of his come and of his arousal mixed together, and that was enough. Stiles looks at him, eyes wide and shining, then he brings his finger up to his mouth and does what Derek really should have expected him to: he licks it, then sucks it in, his lips tightening around the tip. 

"'S a bit weird," he says when he pulls the finger out again. 

Derek is speechless, his mind spinning in ways he can't control. He can't do anything else but watch as Stiles moves his hand down again, to the tip of Derek's cock where another bead of precome has formed just from watching Stiles suck on his finger. 

"Can I... I wanna taste," Stiles says. 

He shouldn't, he knows he should put a stop to it right here and now, that it's already gone too far. But this is something he's been trying so hard not to think about, something that crept up on him in the dreams he'd never admit to having. Before Derek can muster up the strength and clarity of mind to protest, Stiles shimmies down until his face is level with Derek's crotch. 

And then his small tongue darts out and scoops up the bead of liquid of the tip, sliding over the slit that promptly produces another drop, twitching at the contact. Stiles swallows and then leans in, wrapping his pink lips around the tip, his tongue swirling around like he's licking a popsicle. 

It's when he hums that Derek has to hold back a moan of his own and only barely keeps his body still. Stiles doesn't pause, he continues suckling on the tip of Derek's cock, lips stretched around it, tongue sliding over the slit as the precome keeps coming. Derek's close, so close already, after an evening of temptation and low-key arousal. He wants to look away, catch his breath, but he can't turn his eyes away from the sight of Stiles's head, the bopping motion as he tries to take in more of Derek's cock into his small mouth. 

"Stiles," Derek rasps a short while later, when his balls start tightening. "Stop."

To his surprise, Stiles does pull away then, but it comes with a pout on his lips like Derek's taken away his favorite toy. 

"Why?" Stiles asks, looking up at Derek, his eyes wide still, confused. 

"Come here," Derek tells him and watches Stiles reluctantly move back up until their faces are level. "Let me taste," he says then, all caution thrown to the wind. 

Stiles narrows his eyes but Derek doesn't give him a chance to ask anything. He leans in and presses his lips against Stiles's, then gently slips his own tongue between them. Stiles is still against him, for the first time that evening he's not squirming or moving. Derek lifts his hand to Stiles's cheek and tilts his head, surprised at how pliant the boy is. The kiss is slow for a while but then Stiles reacts and presses his own tongue against Derek's mimicking the motions like he's memorizing them. His hips stutter against Derek's abs, little cock hard in his pajamas.

Derek hums and moves his hand down again, rests it on Stiles's side for a beat and then slips his fingers underneath the frayed waistband slowly, listening to Stiles's wildly beating heart as he inches further. He doesn't go to the front, despite the temptation of freeing Stiles's cock from the confines of the fabric. Instead, he slides his hand to the small perky butt that's been teasing him earlier. His hand covers more of it than he expected and his fingers are right at the cleft between the rounded little globes. Stiles's hips stutter again and Derek's fingers slip in the crack, the tips of them brushing against the little pucker hidden there. 

"Derek,," Stiles mumbles against Derek's lips. "What...." 

"Wanna try something?" Derek asks, all inhibition gone now, nothing left but want. 

Stiles nods eagerly, looking at Derek with anticipation, lips parted and darkened from the kisses. Derek moves his fingers, slowly stroking along the cleft, his fingers catching on the puckered hole that's already reacting to the touch. Stiles's hips keep jerking forward, cock brushing against Derek's abs fast and without a rhythm. Derek's own cock is hard enough to hurt now, leaking all over Stiles's pajamas and dripping precome to the sheets under them. Then he stops right as a finger is at Stiles's ass and he takes a deep breath before he pulls the hand away. He brings it to Stiles's mouth and slides it between his lips.

"Give it a lick," he tells Stiles, then he clenches his teeth as Stiles follows the instruction perfectly. 

Once the finger is soaked, Derek returns it to Stiles's ass, pushing the pajama bottoms out of the way. Then he hooks his hand around Stiles's thigh and rucks it up over his waist. With Stiles's ass exposed, Derek puts his fingers right against his small hole again, feeling the cool air hitting the wetness where Stiles licked it. 

It doesn't take as much effort to push his finger in as he thought it would. Stiles is relaxed until Derek's finger slides it and it's only once it's in to the first knuckle that Stiles clenches his ass around it. 

"Hngh," is the only thing that comes out of Stiles's mouth as Derek starts to move his hand slowly, tugging on the ring of muscle with every slide of the finger. 

He's on edge, his cock throbbing with arousal as he thinks how much he'd love to see Stiles being breached this way for the first time in his life. It only takes another few strokes before he gives in, pulls his finger out, and kisses Stiles gently before he moves his lithe body around until he's on his stomach. Then Derek kneels between his legs and spreads them wider, watching as Stiles's fingers grab the sides of the pillow that his face is buried in. 

"Okay?" Derek asks quietly, stroking a finger along the cleft of Stiles's butt. 

The response is a vigorous nod and Stiles's hips rising off the bed, his butt up in the air. The movement exposes his pucker to Derek, who only just holds himself back from diving into it face-first. Instead, he slicks up his fingers in his own mouth and brings them back to Stiles's hole, pausing just to look at the contrast between his own tanned skin and Stiles's paleness. The pucker itself is darker than the skin around it, a little red from Derek's ministrations earlier. It's smooth and bare, and so very inviting. Derek's cock throbs again. 

Stiles lets out a tiny whimper when Derek's finger breaches him again. it's mesmerizing, the way the hole stretches around Derek's knuckles, the way it opens up when Derek rolls his finger once it's deep enough inside -- he dips it further this way than he did before, to the second knuckle before he pulls it out until only the tip is inside Stiles. His free hand tightens around his own cock, thumb rolling over the dripping tip. Stiles's pants echo around the room, his heartbeat loud enough to sound like a drum to Derek's ears. He can smell the arousal from Stiles's body, he knows that there's no pain, nothing but pleasure. 

His own body is trembling as he holds back his own orgasm, but he doesn't manage long, the combination of the forbidden and the want that he's been denying himself for so long catches up with him. It's when he pushes his finger into Stiles all the way and Stiles moans in response that his balls tighten and his cock pulses, his come spurting and spraying Stiles's legs and ass, and on Derek’s own hand. Derek's body is frozen as he watches the come slide off of Stiles's skin and he pulls his finger out, then dips it back into Stiles's hole after scooping up some of the come, pressing it inside. 

"Derek," Stiles whimpers, his own body trembling as his small cock twitches and spurts out a few clear drops, his own climax mostly dry still. 

When they've both caught their breath and Derek finally pulls his finger out, Stiles rolls over, rubbing Derek's come all over his sheets. His chest is heaving and dark pink, eyes wide open and glistening with mischief. Derek wants to feel guilty, he does, but Stiles looks so elated that he can't not lean over and can't not kiss him, his body seeming so big over Stiles's. 

"'s sticky," Stiles says when they stop for a beat. "Nice though." 

"Stiles," Derek says, voice rough and hesitant. "You can't... please don't tell..."

"I won't," Stiles tells him quickly. "Our secret." 

Derek kisses him again. 

"Imma need a shower," Stiles tells him. "Wanna help?" 

Derek groans at the thought of Stiles under the spray of the shower, body slick with water and the idea of his hands rubbing shower gel all over his skin. He lifts himself from the bed and looks down, scrunching his nose when he feels the come that's stuck on his own body. 

"Maybe you need a shower too," Stiles says, eyes dancing as he grabs Derek's hand. "Come on."

There's nothing to do but follow. Derek's pretty sure he will follow Stiles anywhere. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [tumblr](https://pleasurific.tumblr.com/) too!


End file.
